July the Fourteenth
by The Mocking J
Summary: On a rainy night, a teenager reunites with his best friend. That same night, it all begins. Soon, he finds himself confronted with strange things. Things he thought were behind him. Things that, this time, will be more dangerous than before. [An English translation of BakApple's 'Quatorze Juillet'.]
1. Chapter 1

**[[** This is the Prologue to an English translation of **BakApple** 's French Rhythm Thief fanfic, ** Quatorze Juillet**. I'm unable to include a link here, but I highly suggest you check out **BakApple** 's original fic as the writing will be better than my mediocre translation skills. **BakApple** is kindly doing the same for my Rhythm Thief AU fic, **Deja Vergier** but in French. Even if you are not a French reader, please consider leaving comments on the original fic. It shouldn't be hard to find on the Rhythm Thief archive.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Rhythm Thief, or the oriignal content to **Quatorze Juillet**.

 **Spoilers:** For Rhythm Thief.

 **Set:** After The Emperor's Treasure. **]]**

* * *

-Prologue-

The rain fell, thick and flowing. Sewers struggled to evacuate the rivers that coursed through the city. A chrysanthemum flower floated on the water's surface. It came to rest against the foot of a person standing on the edge of the river. The person stooped and picked up the poor lost flower. She raised it to her lips and inhaled its scent; she let out a sigh.

The city was sleeping. The few lights of the French capital that remained were lit in the distance. Against this gloomy backdrop, the person— a girl— was waiting. Her clothes stuck to her skin, but she didn't care; this was the last of her concerns. She had no umbrella. She hadn't thought to bring one.

She watched a ground floor apartment on a street corner. A room in the apartment was lit by a lamp. Shadows loomed within.

Finally, the light went out. She heard the door creak open, and saw a shadow slip out of the building.

She removed a piece of paper from her pocket and checked the address written on it. Everything matched.

The thin sheet disintegrated in the rain in her hands.

She did not care.

She had found him.

Finally. It was about to begin.

* * *

"A little rain won't stop us. Right, Fondue?"

The white canine wearing a red cape barked in agreement to his master. This was a young man of nineteen, whose eyes shone with excitement at the thought of what he was going to do. He zipped up his gray jacket and put up his hood before going out in the rain, closely followed by his dog.

Venturing into the total darkness didn't bother them. They knew which way to go, with or without light.

They dashed through the maze of streets, sliding across the pavement before arriving in front of a huge gate. The mansion that loomed before them stood out from the darkness of the night. Some of the lights had been left on. The staff were probably still working, despite the late hour.

The young man smiled. This was the place.

* * *

It was very late indeed. The girl had stopped counting the hours since the moon had risen. She hadn't even changed out of her day clothes yet. She waited as the clock ticked away, hoping weariness would claim her soon. To pass the time, she read novels from Rabelais to those of Albert Camus. Then, she grabbed her bag and her musical scores and crept to the soundproof cabinet at the other end the hall.

She could hear the rain hitting the window panes. She plucked a string on her violin, reassured by the resounding note.

She played for a long time. An hour, maybe two, or more. Her right arm became heavier, and she stopped rubbing the bow against the strings. Her fingers on her left hand were numb and could no longer keep up.

 _Maybe I should go to sleep now_ , she mused, although the desire was still not there.

Carefully, she put her instrument in its case. She shut the case and re-crossed the hall in complete silence, although she was the only one to sleep in one of the rooms on this side of the mansion.

She grabbed the door handle and was surprised to find that the metal was not as cold as it should be. It was as if someone had waited for a long time, his hand resting on the handle. When she was about to open the door, she heard a familiar voice whisper in her ear:

"I hesitated to enter. Then I told myself it was rude to keep a lady waiting."

She turned, shocked and ecstatic both at once. She let go of the handle, put down her violin case, and threw her arms around the newcomer's neck. Tears of joy ran down her cheeks.

"I'm so happy to see you, Raphael!"

There was a jealous yelp.

The girl released her friend and greeted the dog, stroking his head.

"You too, Fondue! I've missed you so much! "

The canine snorted, scattering raindrops in the hallway. He let her cuddle him and she grinned in delight.

The girl invited her friends inside her room. Raphael hesitated for a moment, and explained that they had just gotten out of the rain.

"We don't want to make your room dirty," he said uneasily. "The cleaners won't like that... "

The girl shook her head, her blonde hair waving, and said she cleaned her own room, so there was no problem.

She asked her friends to sit, and went to grab two towels. She handed one to the young man that he used to dry his hair while she took care of his furry friend. The latter was happy to be dry again.

An uncomfortable silence settled over them, stifling as a drape. Sitting on her bed, the girl didn't dare look at her friend. The latter, sitting at her desk, would not speak. They had so much to say, but neither knew how to start. How long had they been apart? Nearly a year, surely. And so many things had happened during those twelve months. The girl decided to speak, but Raphael interrupted her.

"I wanted to apologize for not… giving you this sooner."

He approached her and handed her a wrapped package, a gift. She grabbed it and quivered when their fingers met. His skin was so warm... She wanted to thank him, but all she could articulate was a mush of words. Her face reddened in shame.

Gently, she unwrapped her gift, and revealed a little box. She smiled at her friend and asked wryly if he had stolen it. In mock-indignation, he replied that he didn't just visit museums. Besides, the things in museum were old and worthless.

"And you deserve better than that," he added, smiling.

The cheeks of the young blonde heated up. She couldn't think of an answer, so she opened the box. Her eyes widened. The box contained a small jewel, a necklace. She took it out gently. She couldn't believe it. It was a pendant in the shape of the crescent moon on which rested a violin. The chain that held it and the jewel itself was silver.

"But... how much did it cost you?" she exclaimed.

He paused and gingerly took the jewel from her hand to tie it around her neck. The brush of his hands on her neck made her shiver. It felt funny to be so close after so long.

He stepped back and ran a hand through his red hair, smiling as always. He admitted that the necklace suited her very well, even better than he expected, and gestured for her to look in the mirror she kept on her desk. She approached her reflection, and found that Raphael was right.

The crescent moon was a bit bigger than a piece of fifty cents. It fell just above the hollow of her chest. Due to its neutral color, she could wear it with any outfit. Of course, she and Raphael knew the significance of the crescent moon and the violin.

She saw Raphael's reflection approaching hers. He came to hug her, wrapping his arms around her neck and whispering in his ear.

"You're beautiful, Marie. "

She smiled. All of her thoughts cleared from her head. Her discomfort disappeared, leaving a pleasant feeling of warmth. She had missed the sensation, but now that he was there, it resurfaced. Her heart was racing, and she knew he could feel it.

Marie turned her face to his. His hazel eyes, hard and soft at the same time, came to meet her clear sparkling blue eyes. She opened her lips; she wanted to tell him what she had kept to herself for long. But he did not give her time to speak. Raphael pressed his lips to hers. This simple first kiss exchanged during this rainy night was the answer to the questions that had troubled them for a year.

* * *

It was still raining when he returned.

The girl had been waiting. It was late— maybe four in the morning. She didn't know and she didn't care. But she always watched when he would return home.

He finally arrived. Quietly, he approached his home.

Fondue accompanied the red-haired teenager at a crosswalk as he waited for the light turned green. At this hour, there wasn't much traffic, but he preferred to make sure the coast was clear. Luckily, the wait wasn't long before they could cross. Fondue went running to the other side of the road and sat, holding on for his master. Raphael dragged his feet, enjoying every step he took.

A horn sounded.

A light blinded him.

But he was already too late.


	2. Chapter 2

**\- Part I ~** **Chrysanthème -**

-Chapter I-

Raphael awoke with a start.

It took him a while to process where he was. He recognized the ceiling and the walls of his room. That was a relief.

Still doubtful, he made sure Marie's gift was no longer in his pocket. He let out a sigh of relief.

He remembered a car speeding past him last night. After he staggered home and went to bed, he must have dreamed the car _hit_ him. That was all. Nothing to worry about.

Another sigh escaped his lips.

Fondue padded into the room. He sat down and looked up at Raphael, wondering what had spooked his master. But Fondue's pensiveness vanished when Raphael patted his head. Then he glanced at Raphael's clothes, still soaked from yesterday. He swiveled his ears when Raphael sneezed.

" _Ugh…_ Think I've caught cold," Raphael coughed. Of course, the canine couldn't comprehend what he'd said.

Fondue followed him into the living room. He saw Raphael's face turn pale at the sight of the flower bouquet on the kitchen table, in a vase. The flowers smelled sublime, but Fondue couldn't see how they were beautiful. (He didn't have the same colour-vision as Raphael!) What did he know about the meaning of flowers? Humans used flowers for special occasions… but not dogs!

Fearfully, Raphael approached the bouquet. It was as if he'd seen a ghost. If only this was the case, he might be less afraid.

He grabbed the black vase and noticed a label hanging out.

There was a message written on it.

 _Neat handwriting,_ Raphael thought. Maybe it belonged to a girl or a woman. No man he knew wrote like this.

 _'TO THE ONE WHO DOES NOT KNOW THE TRUE MEANING OF THESE FLOWERS.'_

This had to be someone's idea of a bad joke. He released a nervous laugh. He hurled the flowers in the kitchen trash. He also considered throwing out the vase, but thought better of it. He just added the label to the garbage.

Fondue kept giving Raphael a blank look. He yawned, and let it become a little squeak by closing his mouth. This caught the boy 's attention.

"Oh, sorry, Fondue. I was just thinking…"

He came to stroke his head again, and imagined that if Fondue was a cat, he would have purred.

Raphael sighed. The rain was lashing down again. It had been like this for several days, and from the sound of the weather forecast, things wouldn't improve anytime soon. He went to have a shower, hoping the hot water would help clear his head.

There was a knock at the front door. Automatically entering watchdog mode, Fondue barked. Raphael hushed him quickly. His hair still dripping wet, Raphael opened the door. He blinked at his visitor.

"Hi, Raphael!" Marie beamed. "I hope you don't mind me turning up so early."

He smiled back and invited her in before disappearing to dry his hair. "Sorry— give me just a sec…"

Marie nodded. She waited patiently while her friend finished getting ready, visualizing how their day would play out. The two of them were going to spend time together in the city. In a certain sense, you could call it a _date._ Mary blushed at the mere fancy— her first date.

Fondue pulled her from her thoughts. He groaned, rubbing the trash can lid in Raphael's kitchen. Intrigued, Marie lifted the lid, and was surprised to find a bunch of flowers in there. Then, she noticed the vase on the table. Fondue barked as if the flowers bothered him. Marie hurried to close the trash can and pretended not to have seen anything when Raphael returned. Many questions arose in her mind. Why was there a bouquet of fresh flowers? Why had it been thrown away? Had Raphael bought it, or had it been given to him? By _who_ …? Could Raphael be interested in another girl?

 _No_ , Marie thought. It didn't make any sense. She was getting ahead of herself.

"Everything okay, Marie? "

She smiled and nodded. Everything was fine.

He took her hand. "Then shall we go?"

They had coffee in town on a very pleasant terrace Mary had never visited before. The rain had finally stopped. They continued their conversation from the day before (or rather, earlier this morning) around pastries and hot drinks: a coffee for him and a Viennese hot chocolate for her.

They talked about so many things. Raphael listened as she informed him of what had happened in the year he had been away. It was more of a monologue from Marie than a full conversation, though Raphael added the odd remark.

Several times, she asked him where he had been for nearly a year. But with each attempt, Raphael scowled and changed the subject. She finally gave up on the idea of learning more.

Raphael licked a bit of whipped cream in his spoon. He sipped his coffee and looked around the terrace.

People bustled by, too busy to watch where they were going. Some lingered on the sidewalk a few meters from Raphael and Marie. Some walked on the other side of the road. In addition, they saw a small park where children were playing under the supervision of parents.

"Hey, Marie, do you have any exams?" Raphael piped up. "It's that time of year, right?"

She looked at him in astonishment.

Raphael pressed, "Don't you have to pass the baccalaureate? You're eighteen now…"

Mary stifled an amused laugh."I never told you? I was moved up a year in school, so I finished my last year at the same time as you. "

Raphael laughed in turn, amused by his own stupidity. "That's right. You never told me before…" He took another drink, looking towards the crowd.

Marie gazed at Raphael over the rim of her cup. She found him different compared to the memories she had of him. He seemed… mellow. More serious than before.

"Josette harassed me before I left this morning," Marie said, smiling. "She wanted to come with me."

"You're like a sister to her," he said without looking away from the road.

"Yes, that's right. "

Silence fell over them again, heavy and awkward. Marie glanced around the terrace. Raphael kept staring in vain.

There was no doubt, Raphael had changed over the past year.

A waitress came to bring them the bill, placing it on the table with a small vase containing a flower. Much to her embarrassment, Marie realized that it was the same type of flower she had found in Raphael's kitchen.

The latter, seeing the said flower, went white. He stuttered out a protest, but waitress didn't even react.

"Is something wrong?" Mary inquired, concerned for her friend.

"No, it's nothing," Raphael said, though his voice lacked conviction.

She saw him shiver. Fondue let out a whine from under the table.

Raphael stood up, went to pay the bill, and insisted it was time for them to go. Marie traipsed after him, leaving the flower behind her.

"I'm sorry... about everything. I'm a little stressed today," Raphael admitted as they entered the park across the road.

"You were fine earlier," replied the blonde teenager. "Did something happen?"

He cast a worried glance around them. Then, he muttered, "This might sound strange, but—"

A cry rang out. It was a female voice, one that seemed familiar to Raphael's ears. He, Fondue and Marie rushed to the source of the cry.

The dry earth had turned into mud, footprints and as they rushed past hedges. The wind rose, shaking the branches of trees and dispersing any rain left on the leaves. Some of the water caught on Marie's hair and Raphael's glasses. Neither of them noticed as they ran down a path leading to a small clearing. The cry had come from here… but no one else was around. All they could see were footprints in the mud.

Marie dropped onto a bench.

"I've heard that voice before," said Raphael.

"Does it have anything to do with you and..." began Marie, before she trailed off.

Raphael finished her sentence. "Me and Napoleon?"

Marie nodded. "And your father, Isaac. "

Raphael didn't react to the sound of _his_ name. He simply sat beside her on the bench and lifted his head to the fluffy clouds above.

Yes, his father. He was the one who had triggered all of the events with the Dragon Crown, more or less directly. His disappearance had led Raphael to create his Phantom R persona and to steal the Bracelet of Tiamat. The same night, Raphael had met Marie. They were both key players in this story. There was also Napoleon, who had proved to be an impostor named Leonard Bonar, the Duchess Elizabeth— Marie's mother— and Jean-François, Elizabeth's power-hungry cousin. He had wanted to use Mary to access the lost treasure of Babylon. Traces of the ancient empire had been left in Paris.

All of those memories came flooding back to Raphael. His heart hammered when he recalled Marie's smile during their first meeting. They'd had some close shaves back then, like when Jean-François shot him and their escape from the collapsing Hanging Gardens of Babylon…

Marie's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Did you ever find your father?"

"No…"

When he and Marie parted, he said he would find his father and finally get to the bottom of this mystery. But Raphael had failed.

"I think I've lost him for good."

Marie turned to him, took his hand and smiled, her eyes sparkling blue.

"But you've managed without him for all these years, and even though you couldn't find him, you came back to see us." She paused. "You came back to me."

She leaned in and gently pressed her lips to his. Raphael kissed her back. She wrapped her arms around him. His thoughts were filled with nothing but Marie. She had been waiting for a year, but she welcomed him back with open arms. And he knew she still loved him, even after twelve months of separation. Just like he still loved her.

She freed herself from their embrace and moved back a bit. Once again, the sky had gone cloudy and grey. Soon, a light drizzle began to fall.

Marie shivered. Now she regretted just wearing a summer dress.

Raphael took off his jacket and put it on her shoulders, even though it wouldn't keep her completely dry.

"Raphael?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

"I love you too. "

He smiled and they embraced again.

They stayed like that, entwined, sharing a long passionate kiss.


	3. Chapter 3

-Chapter II-

Raphael and Marie spent the rest of the day together. They walked to the Tuileries gardens, visited the Musée de l'Orangerie, were amazed at Monet's Water Lilies, and laughed at groups of school children constantly questioning their exasperated instructors.

Come late afternoon, Raphael escorted Marie home to the mansion. He promised to see her soon; she nodded.

She watched as the door closed behind him. She waited for a moment, lost in thought. When her mother called, she left the hall reluctantly.

* * *

The crowds flooded into the streets. As the hours passed they vanished, and only a few tourists were left here and there to enjoy the night scenery of the capital. It was in this climate that Raphael crept out of his apartment, Fondue at his side. Except he didn't don the identity of Raphael, the unremarkable redhead who worked part time in a corner shop. Now he was Phantom R, an art thief wanted for ransacking the museums of Paris.

The police hadn't heard from him for some time. Inspector Paul Vergier, who had tracked the rhythm thief's activity for years, was surprised to see a letter from Phantom R on his desk that evening. The officers on patrol told Vergier they hadn't seen anyone entering his office. Intrigued, Vergier opened the envelope and read its contents. Phantom R had picked his target at the Louvre; it was a miniature, a small canvas previously unknown police officers.

Vergier stationed the Paris roller-skate brigade around the museum. When Phantom R arrived, the brigade was ready.

They saw a shadow approaching. Vergier recognized it as that of the thief, and cast the spotlight in his direction, before the pyramid.

They suddenly saw the criminal, illuminated from all sides. Dark blue suit, red tie, hat the same color; no doubt, it was him. Despite being outnumbered, he did not stop. He walked towards them, looking for someone in the crowd. He saw the inspector, smiled, and sauntered towards him.

Consternation spread through the police. Vergier clenched teeth. "What are you playing at, Rhythm Thief?" he spat.

Phantom R stopped with his head down, arms folded. His Cheshire smile was the only visible part of his visage. "I just wanted to see you up close, after all this time. " He raised his head. It was the first time Vergier had seen the full face of Phantom R.

"But if you don't want to see me, it's no problem…"

He removed something— a cloth the size of a book— from the inside pocket of his jacket, and knelt to place the stolen item on the ground.

"Pay attention to the standards of your work," he said mockingly.

There was a cry of pain from the back of Vergier's troops. All of them turned, forgetting Phantom R, who fled the scene in silence.

"A dog bit me!" one of the officers wailed.

But his colleagues were to panicked to look. The dog seemed to be biting at their heels.

"Band of morons!" Vergier roared.

The rhythm thief had escaped once again.

* * *

"Did you see their faces, Fondue? " Raphael chuckled, wiping a tear from his eye.

The dog answered with a yelp of approval. "We sure fooled them!" Raphael's laughter continued. "And that one guy's reaction when you bit him? Priceless."

There was more barking from his companion. The redhead sighed, his amusement fading.

He heard the voices of two policemen searching for him, although he was far from the museum. He sat on a shadowy roof, clutching Fondue. It'd been a long time since he'd felt such an adrenalin rush.

Eventually, he decided it was safe to leave. He leapt across the tops of houses and apartments until he reached his home.

* * *

For the past few hours, Inspector Paul Vergier had been pacing in his office.

His facial features were drawn; his eyes were raw and heavy with dark circles. He continuously massaged his temples, ignoring the brown dreadlocks that obscured his view. He couldn't understand Phantom R's latest caper. The thief had completed the picture he had stolen. Perhaps he was trying confuse them? But why did he reveal himself after disappearing for a year...?

It gave Vergier a headache.

A disgruntled officer knocked on his office door and came inside.

"You will not believe this, Boss..."

Vergier slouched in his chair and swung around to face his visitor. He took off his rectangular-framed glasses and rubbed his eyes.

"What has he done now?" Vergier asked without much conviction in his voice.

"Well, Boss, we sent two agents to put the painting back in its place. Procedure, you see..." He advanced a little, and closed the door behind him.

"And when they arrived at the location, there was a second painting, a copy. "

Stunned, Vergier suddenly stood up.

The officer said, "It may sound crazy, but—"

"He had planned his heist for months, and made a copy of the painting!?" The inspector couldn't believe it. It had been three years since Phantom R started thieving, and this was the first time he had acted in such a way.

"We sent the painting to the labs, and the results... showed the copy was already several years old."

It made no sense.

The officer stepped back, somewhat embarrassed by the situation. Vergier's jaw dropped. He couldn't believe the discovery they had made. It was as if all of his investigations, all of his struggles, all his work had been for nothing. Reality hurt.

"And there's more crazy things about this painting," added the officer, struggling to breathe in the tension-filled room.

Vergier resumed pacing his office, walking on some files or papers scattered across the surface of the floor.

"The painting Phantom R stole and returned when you caught him, _this_ was the copy."

This was too much for the inspector. He thanked the officer in a weak voice, and dismissed him.

Vergier sent a message to his daughter and spent the night at the office, frantically typing up a report of the failed arrest of the evening. He did some research, took notes, and tried to find a new lead, but to no avail. There were too many questions in need of answers.

He stirred when the sunlight hit his face. He was slumped over his desk, head in his arms. A pen was lying on his notebook. He had dozed off in mid-sentence.

He looked at his watch; quarter to six.

A groan escaped from his throat.

It was too late to go home.

* * *

Marie awoke to the morning light. The girl couldn't help growling at herself— she'd forgotten to close the shutters. She didn't look outside; she knew it wouldn't improve her mood. Instead, she got out of bed to start the day.

The rest of the mansion was still asleep. Marie's footsteps were the only sound as she padded through the endless corridors. The silence almost made her shiver.

She took her time eating breakfast and choosing what she would wear. She had planned to walk around town with Josette, who had "something super awesome" to tell her. Marie couldn't help smiling, thinking of how excited her best friend was.

She finally opted for a simple outfit; a light and white blouse with lavender shorts. She had a while before she went out, so she settled into the soundproof room and played a few tunes on her violin.

As usual, her thoughts turned to Raphael. She worried that he was taunting the police again. What if they managed to capture him?

She glanced at her watch— it was time to go. She grabbed her purse and rushed down to hug her mother and Alfred goodbye.

When Marie arrived at the restaurant where they had arranged to meet, she saw Josette already sat at a table. Josette waved as Marie hurried over.

"You won't believe what happened!" she said as Marie took a seat.

A waiter brought them a bottle of water. Marie noticed that there were two extra spaces at their table.

"I met someone amazing!" Josette gushed, her chocolate eyes shining with excitement.

A teenage boy about their age joined them at the table, sitting to the right of Josette. His brown hair and lavender eyes seemed familiar to Marie.

"Marie, meet Michel. Michel, this is Marie!" Josette announced.

Michel stared at Marie. "Haven't I seen you somewhere before?" he asked politely, frowning.

"I introduced the two of you last year," said a familiar voice.

Raphael stole the other space seat. He smiled, revealing that he'd received a message from Michel yesterday, just after he left Marie.

Josette explained how she had met Michel. The two of them had been dating for a while. Michel added that they had decided to invite each others' best friends out for a "double date".

What a coincidence— their friends happened to be Marie and Raphael.

Marie and Raphael laughed and exchanged a knowing look. Quietly, Raphael reached out to Marie under the table. She slipped her hand into his. They didn't need to resolve the 'coincidence'. It would be their little secret.

A waitress came to take their order. Although none of them would have ordered wine with their meal, she carried a bottle and glasses on her tray. She put everything on the table, adding a small vase and a flower. Somehow, Raphael managed to hide his embarrassment. This must have been a joke. He wanted to call the woman, but she had disappeared as quickly as she arrived.

"What type of flower is this?" Josette wondered.

"A chrysanthemum," Raphael replied, trying to sound natural.

"Isn't that a flower you're supposed to put on graves?" Michel asked innocently.

Raphael swallowed. Michel's words really weren't helping.

"It must be a mistake," whispered Marie, equally embarrassed by the situation.

She took the flower and hid it in the bushes beside them. Michel, in an attempt to diffuse the tense atmosphere, uncorked the bottle and poured the drink. When the four of them clinked glasses, a waiter brought them their food. None of them commented on the incident, if one could call it that, of the flower. Their breakfast was held in a rather jovial manner, with Michel ranting about the eternal quest for love which most human beings demonstrated throughout their life, throwing obvious glances towards Josette. His joy was quickly replaced embarrassment, and the four teenagers had a pleasant time.

When they had finished eating, Raphael and Marie thanked their friends and set out again together. They went to the park they had visited the day before. They walked along the gravel paths, admiring flowers and trees.

Then, on one of the paths, they met a girl about their age, sitting on the edge of a fountain, a guitar in her hands. Her low cap hid her eyes and most of her hair from passersby. Raphael was as mesmerized as Marie by the girl's music. The young street artist sang as she plucked the strings of her guitar:

 _Don't you know that_

 _I'll be around to guide you_

Neither of them knew this song. Maybe it was an original composition, or a cover of a lesser known musician.

 _Through your weakest moments_

 _To leave them behind you?_

Raphael fumbled in his pockets, and regretted not having any change to give the musician.

 _Returning nightmares_

 _Only shadows_

He took Marie's hand. She smiled at him and they resumed their walk, leaving the song to continue without them.

 _We'll cast some light and you'll be alright…_

"She plays really well," Marie whispered, turning for a last glance at the girl.

"But not as well as you with your violin." The redhead smiled.

 _We'll cast some light and you'll be alright for now..._

If Raphael or Marie had paid attention, perhaps they would have thought about the lyrics, or they would have seen the chrysanthemum flower on the guitar. But this wasn't the case; the couple were in a secret world that only they knew.

* * *

She stood, her hands clutching the deck's wooden railing.

She took a deep breath.

The wind softly stroked her face, bringing with it some fruity scents from the market next to the park.

She inhaled the waft of the river that passed underneath her, and listened to the birdsong and the rustle of the wind.

She sighed.

"It didn't work. "

She took off her dark cap, releasing her long red hair.

Her guitar lay beside her on the ground. Using the instrument, she only received a few tens of cents. It wasn't a good day.

"I won't be able to buy flowers anymore," she murmured thoughtfully, turning the chrysanthemum flower over in her hand. "Never mind. "

She buried her hand in her jeans pocket, picked up her guitar and went on her way.

Before heading home, she made a detour to his apartment, and laid the chrysanthemum on the doormat. She smiled.


	4. Chapter 4

-Chapter III-

"Hi, Raphael!" the postman greeted him. "This is for you."

Raphael took the envelope from the postman. He gazed hopefully at the writing, but became disheartened when he saw it wasn't from his father. After four years without any news, he still expected to receive something that proved his father was alive and thinking of him.

He thanked the postman and returned to his apartment when he was finished walking Fondue.

Raphael sat in his bed, tore open the envelope and removed its contents. Though the writing in the letter seemed familiar to him, he couldn't put a name to it.

 _"R,_

 _How are you? I hope you are keeping up your thieving antics._

The point of this letter is simple, but you simply couldn't understand it. Yet, I will go on.

 _I will come to see you soon. I know where you live- it was not difficult to locate the apartment a poor student. There is no need to be home when I drop by; in fact, it would be better to be somewhere else. For example, you could be out with your angelic little girlfriend. The two of you could share a meal and a drink on the terrace, or go listen to some street singers. This is just a simple suggestion, of course. You may prefer to keep more private company, in which case I could take care of your dumb mongrel too._

 _Know that this letter is half-invitation and half-threat. Whether you think I am serious or not, do not discard this letter._

If you doubt my reliability, know that I have been watching over you. But in this letter, I will simply tell you that the fair dragon crown reigns in heaven, the princess of the moon is the key and that only those of blue blood can lead the way to the cloud.

 _I will see you soon, surely."  
_  
The signature scrawled at the bottom of the sheet was illegible. Raphael crumpled the letter into a ball and aimed it at the trash. The paper ball missed its mark, but he didn't care.

He rose from his bed as someone rang the doorbell. Fondue rushed to the door, ready to start barking, but he stopped in his tracks at his master's call. Instead, he sat and waited, wagging his tail. Raphael shrugged at him.

He opened the door with a smile, expecting to see Marie on the threshold.

He froze for a moment. His smile faded.

A stranger stood before him. She was dressed in dark clothing, a hood concealing her face. She pushed him aside and stepped into his apartment.

"What's the big deal?" Raphael demanded.

The intruder turned. She held out her arm and pointed a gun— a revolver or a single, he couldn't tell— right at him. He noticed the appendix on the barrel— a silencer.

Beside them, Fondue didn't move, too frightened by the threat hanging over his master.

The intruder smiled and pulled the trigger.

There was a little noise. A simple, short, brief explosion.

Raphael felt the bullet pierce his shirt and his skin. An intense pain spread throughout his body. The shooter had aimed for his heart, and made a direct hit.

The blast pushed Raphael back. He hit the wall and slid to the floor, landing on his right side.

Panic overwhelmed his senses. The taste of blood filled his mouth and throat. He felt so cold….

His vision of the smiling intruder blurred and melted into the darkness.

* * *

The alarm clock struck eight. Raphael awoke with a gasp. He put a hand on his heart and removed his pajama top, terrified that he would find a bullet wound. He let out a sigh of relief; it was just a dream.

He got up, rubbing his eyes. Fondue sat before him, eyes sparkling, tail wagging, begging for a morning walk. His master sighed and stood up.

He turned on the coffee machine and took a shower while the machine was warming up. The hot water helped calm his nerves. Still, he couldn't help looking at his chest now and then. The nightmare had seemed so real...

There was a "ding" from the coffee machine, making Fondue yelp. He still wasn't used to the sound of the appliance.

Raphael buttoned his white shirt, pulled her sweater over it, and buckled his belt, before joining his four-legged companion, who was growling at the machine. He pressed the 'off' button, which immediately calmed the canine. As he sipped his morning coffee, Fondue caught his eye, still waiting for a walk.

It was only eight-thirty when they stepped outside.

Raphael winced when he saw what was lying on his doormat. Why was always _that_ flower?

He and Fondue returned from their walk without incident. The postman was waiting for them when they got back.

"Hi, Raphael! This is for you."

Raphael swallowed. That was exactly what the postman had said in his dream. Shakily, he took the envelope, thanked the postman, and went into his apartment.

He scanned the letter. Word for word, he recognized the writing. This was too weird. He couldn't possibly have seen the future in a dream…

Fondue watched, intrigued.

"Fondue," Raphael said with clear anxiety in his voice, "we're going to Marie's place."

The dog shook himself and walked to the door when Raphael beckoned him outside again.

"...And that's why I'm here!" Raphael finished explaining to Alfred, Duchess Elizabeth's butler, who regarded him with suspicion. The boy rubbed his eyes, and adjusted his glasses. "Alfred, I have to see Marie," he implored.

"I'm sorry," the old man replied, "but she and the Duchess asked not to be disturbed while they are spending time together. I must respect that decision."

Raphael shifted his feet; a movement of fear and frustration. "But I have to see her! She may be in danger!"

"That's not possible. Visitors are not permitted at the manse today."

Raphael refrained from reminding Alfred of the time he'd infiltrated the manse and saved him from the chevaliers.

"Can't you just let me in—?"

"Alfred? Come here please," Elizabeth called from within the manse.

The butler nodded, asked Raphael once more to leave and closed the front gate.

"Now what do we do, Fondue?"

The dog looked at him with the blank expression of a cow.

"We can't stay outside..." Raphael said, holding his chin in his right hand. "If anything happened to us, we'd have a demonstration of that bystander effect, and that psychopath would love it."

Fondue let out a confused whine.

"The phenomenon is that the more people collected around a crime, the fewer people to intervene," Raphael sighed, disappointed by his own stupidity. "If we're attacked in the street, no one will come to save us. And who knows what will happen..." he said anxiously.

He suppressed a shudder. They had to get to a quiet place, and quickly.

Strangely, his thoughts turned to the Notre-Dame de Paris. He had a hunch telling him he would be safe there. So, he took the subway to the cathedral, arriving there in no time at all. The cathedral inspired comfort inside him.

Closely followed by Fondue, he ventured into the vastness of the cathedral.

Facing a stained-glass window of the Mother Mary, he took a candle and lit it. He clasped his hands for a moment and prayed for Marie's safety. He hoped Marie hadn't (and _wouldn't_ ) cross paths with the shooter from his dream. Though he technically wasn't a believer, he hoped his prayer would be heard.

He then found a place on a bench and waited, peering up at the windows as tourists passed through the cathedral and candles burned…

"Well, I thought I'd find you here!"

A female voice came to him. He didn't recognize it immediately, but the voice rang in his memory.

He wanted to face his visitor, but the voice suddenly turned threatening.

"Don't look back. He knows I'm here, but he can't see us together."

"What are you talking about?" Raphael demanded.

Some bystanders threw him a dirty look. He was talking far too loudly in the cathedral.

"I was ordered to kill you, but I won't do it yet," she said.

She told him to stay still. But he had to know the identity of the person who had made an attempt on his life. He finally turned while she was walking away. It was a young woman whose hair and shirt floated in the wind at the entrance to the cathedral.

He thought he heard her laugh. No, he was imagining it.

He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, and noticed that the young woman had vanished, literally.

Raphael called Fondue. He could at least talk to Fondue about it and try to understand what had happened.

But the empty and misty eyes of the dog that had just woken up, dozing by their break, made him understand that he alone had seen this person. He dared not go to ask the tourists. He simply walked home, hands in pockets, Fondue at his side.

He kept pondering over the identity of the woman.

 _Who was she? What did she want him for? Why was she ordered to kill him?_ _Why did she bring back so many memories of last year?_

But above all, _why did she warn him that she was going to kill him?  
_  
Lying on his bed, his face turned toward the ceiling, he kept thinking about it. Somehow, he recognized her voice. He had only seen her figure from behind, but he was convinced that he had encountered the woman before today. _  
_

He let out a sigh.

Certainly, this city contained too many mysteries.


	5. Chapter 5

\- Chapter IV –

Clearly, this city contained too many mysteries.

Leaning over his desk, Inspector Paul Vergier scrutinized a pile of documents. Articles from various newspapers, officers' reports, surveillance camera recordings… Everything indicated that this was the first time Phantom R had shown any interest in the painting. In this case, how had it possibly come into his possession?

How had he known it was a copy? And even stranger, why had he recovered a fake and made an original?

He grabbed his cup and took a sip of coffee. This didn't make any sense.

"Paul? I need to talk to you."

The inspector saw his subordinate enter his office. His facial expression was caught between anxiety and joy, quite an unlikely mix.

"What is it, Loic?" he asked in a hoarse voice, between sips.

"We received a rather unlikely appeal..."

Vergier raised an eyebrow, looking somewhat puzzled by the news his friend had brought him.

"Apparently, this girl has some important information for us. About Phantom R."

Vergier shrugged. Perhaps it was one of the rhythm thief's many star-struck fan girls. He didn't see how she could be of much help.

"She asked to see you and only you— claimed she knows the true identity of the thief."

Vergier nearly choked on his drink. Had he heard that right, or was he dreaming?

"Tell her I will speak to her immediately."

Vergier was about to enter the office where the girl waited patiently. He adjusted his shirt and tie, and opened the door, his dictaphone in hand.

Their informant was sat at a table, flanked by two officers. When she saw the inspector enter, she stood up and nodded, her blonde hair waving.

He dismissed the two police officers and sat in front of the girl, inviting her to do the same.

She began softly, "Please…?" (Vergier looked up.) "Can you turn off that device? I'd rather not have my voice recorded…"

He grumbled, but accepted the girl's request. He took out a notebook and a pen from a drawer, and began to jot down some ideas for the interrogation. Then, he recognized her face. "Haven't we met before?"

"Yes, actually... We met last year, during all of the trouble with Napoleon. I was dragged into his plans…"

He stared at her. Her large blue eyes scanned the room curiously.

"Well, I'm listening," he said, gripping his pen. "What do you have to say about Phantom R?"

"Raph— sorry, _Phantom R_ works in a small shop near the Rue des Saints-Peres. His boss, Simon, is sure he's the real phantom."

 _'_ _Is that all?'_ the inspector thought, unconvinced.

"In his apartment, he has a hidden door leading to a secret cellar. He keeps his stolen artworks down there. All of them! The Mona Lisa, the Venus de Milo, the self-portrait of Van Gogh... "

Vergier's eyes widened. How did she learn about this?

"Phantom R told me once he likes strolling through museums at night to observe paintings." She stopped, and announced that was all she had to say.

He nodded. These tidbits of information could be of some benefit.

"I'll just need you to sign a report, then you can leave," he concluded.

An officer brought a report to the girl; she signed it. But before she could leave, Vergier had one last question.

"What was your name again?"

"Marie. I'm the Duchess Elizabeth's daughter."

* * *

That morning, a storm was brewing. The sun was hidden behind a wall of clouds, but that did little to deter Raphael. Quietly, he walked the streets of the capital, accompanied by Fondue.

He hoped that appearing relaxed despite the threat that hanging over his life would discourage this woman who was so upset. He still feared she could attack him at any time, so he considered his every step carefully.

He went to crowded places, and less crowded places,seeking help from friends and acquaintances. In vain. It was as if his fate was sealed and it mocked him, saying, ' _Don't you see? You can't escape what's meant to be."_ He shook his head. How could he think like that? Destiny didn't exist; things weren't set in stone from the day you were born until you died.

 _'But,'_ he thought, ' _what if it really was true?'_

What if there really was a destiny, a force superior to all, which could govern the life of every living being? A force, that would mean Raphael's fate was written a long time ago, since the day he was born. In that case, he would be doomed to die, killed by a strange woman...

No, it couldn't be possible. The mere idea of fate was a myth.

This woman who wanted him dead had to be crazy. Raphael had to admit, it would probably be best to get the police involved. On that thought, he turned around and headed for Constabulary HQ. Fondue followed without a doubt; perhaps he didn't realize where their destination was.

When they were across the road from Constabulary HQ, waiting for the green pedestrian light to appear, Raphael saw a familiar figure outside the building. What was Marie doing there? She looked around, before she disappeared down an isolated street, escaping Raphael's gaze. The pedestrian light suddenly turned green, and the redhead rushed after his girlfriend. Despite his lack of understanding of the situation, Fondue followed him down the sidewalk, zigzagging between pedestrians they passed. He made a confused noise when Raphael stopped outside an empty foul-smelling alleyway.

"I couldn't have been dreaming— she was right _there!"_

The alleyway stretched out before them, dark, stinking and devoid of life. There were no doors or windows that anyone walking this way could escape through.

"Fondue, I swear I just saw Marie!"

Reluctantly, the dog sniffed around the area, but he couldn't detect their violinist friend. He let out an apologetic whine, hoping that it would comfort the boy, whose face fell when he realized his mistake.

She was nowhere to be found…

He was going insane.

First, those flowers kept turning up without any reason, without any trace of a deliverer. Then, there were the voices that only he seemed to hear, and the people only he seemed to see. Why was all of this happening to him?

Raphael closed his eyes and clenched his fists. He just had to take a deep breath and start again. He was going to chill out, go home, and return to his normal life moonlighting as an art thief.

"Raphael...?"

An all too familiar voice jerked him from his thoughts. He turned.

"What are you doing here?"

Raphael blinked. _How did she...?_

Quickly— he had to make up an excuse.

"I wanted… to pay Vergier a visit," he said, before he burst out laughing—a nervous laugh.

She nodded, but she still seemed skeptical.

"And you… What are you doing here, Marie? "

She smiled, her blue eyes sparkling with joy. "I'm just on my way back to manse. Mother told me to go on ahead; she's gone to visit someone."

Raphael nodded. That made sense.

Of course Marie hadn't just vanished down an alley as if by magic. He must have mistaken a stranger for Marie from afar— maybe his glasses were dirty.

"Do you want to hang out?" he wondered in the hope of not having to be alone.

"I'm not sure... if I'm stay out for too long, Mother will start to worry…"

"Well then, all we've gotta do is drop by the manse, tell Alfred what's happening, and we can spend some time together!" Raphael said enthusiastically.

The girl nodded, suddenly just as cheerful as he was. Her blond hair twirled around her; she'd always look like an angel in Raphael's eyes.

Alfred agreed that Marie could stay out little longer. She jumped up to hug the butler, jubilant that she could spend more time with her best friend. Raphael also smiled, pleased with Alfred's blessing.

"So, where do want to go?" asked the girl, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear.

He seemed to hesitate for a moment, before coming to a decision. "What if we stayed inside? I've got a bad feeling about those dark clouds…"

She nodded in agreement. They decided to take advantage of being alone and went to have lunch at the restaurant. Raphael was embarrassed because he couldn't afford to pay, but Marie told him not to worry and she took care of the bill. They were sitting on a terrace, where they could hear the bells ringing in the distance at noon. The sky had cleared and the sun was beginning to appear.

"Alfred told me that you and Elizabeth wanted to spend the day together. Why did you leave her so early?" asked Raphael, eager to learn more in order to understand the mirage he had seen.

"She received an important call, which shortened our day," replied Marie, pricking a piece of meat from her fork. "It was from the police, or something like that. "  
Raphael froze for a moment. Was that call related to what he had seen this morning?

"At least we're together now," he finally said, taking a sip of water.

Fondue showed all the patience he could muster waiting for his master and his friend. It wasn't that he disliked Marie's company, no. On the contrary, he appreciated it, especially when she scratched him behind the ears. But he missed the times when he and his master had only had each other. Since Raphael met Marie, and especially since they had reunited, his best friend didn't pay him as much attention as before.

Finally, they got up and left the restaurant. The dog quickly recognized the road back to Raphael's apartment. The moment Raphael opened the front door, Fondue stretched out on his bed.

Marie suggested watching a film. After several minutes of debate, they decided to shut themselves up in Raphael's drawing-room, close shutters and extinguish the lights, and put on a horror film. Though it wasn't their favorite genre, the idea of immersing themselves in fear was too tempting.

As Marie become engrossed in the film's plot, Raphael couldn't help gazing at her. Just being with her was enough to distract him from the TV.

Suddenly, a zombie jumped onto the screen, jerking Marie out of her trance. She sat up against Raphael. She held his arm firmly, making his heart race. Then she put her head on his shoulder, and concentrated on the film again. He tried to do the same in vain. By this point, he had no idea what was happening with the story.

"Hey, Marie," he said.

She looked away from the screen and turned to Raphael. He smiled at her, and pressed his hand behind the girl's head, moving forward to kiss her. She let him, closing her eyes. She didn't care about the movie anymore. He detached her hair clip, releasing the golden strands around her face. She tried to put her hand behind her so she wouldn't fall on the couch, but she slipped, and her back stumbled against the seat, knocking down a cushion.

She held back a little cry, which Raphael stifled by leaning over her, and kissing her again. He stroked her hair and her pink cheeks, brushing her soft skin, before trailing his lips down her neck, and lower still. His hands strayed to her shoulders, trying to remove her cardigan while they were carried away in a flurry of kisses. She let out a groan of and ushered Raphael away from her with all of her strength. He stared at her, but she couldn't look at him. She felt her face heat up with embarrassment and shame.

"I'm... sorry," she gasped, before she leapt up and fled the room.

The door slamming behind her made Raphael realize that he had gone too fast with Marie. He should have known she wasn't ready.

He stood up and picked up the cushion she had knocked over. He threw it and it bounced off the couch. He sighed.

"Well, I'm glad that's over."

Raphael turned to the source of the mocking voice, and found a young girl standing by the doorway. _How long had she been there?!_

She had crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the door. When she saw that she had got his attention, she straightened up, and approached him.

He could see her better now. She was tall and her stare was hard. Her blue eyes glittered with malice, giving no indication of what thoughts was going on in her head.

"Cat got your tongue?" She shook her head, making her red mane of hair fly out behind her.

He didn't know what to say. Too many thoughts were racing through his mind.

She sighed.

"You're really not funny! Come on, _move!"_

She punched him in the jaw. His eyes widened. _What was happening?!_

The taste of blood soon filled his mouth. He saw her raise her fist, ready to strike him again. She threw herself on him. He dodged her. The intruder's punch flew past his head. She didn't seem fazed at all, and gave him a cruel smile. This smile was the last thing he saw before she caught him, and violently slammed his head against the ground.


	6. Chapter 6

**\- Chapter V -**

"Get up, you creep!"

Raphael tried to open his eyes as best he could. He was in pain. _Bad_ pain. Everything hurt.

As if to help him wake up, he was given a sharp slap where he had been punched. He clenched his fists, trying to bear with the impact.

" _Look_ at me when I'm talking to you!" shouted the person before him.

Again, he struggled to open his eyes, and saw a figure he recognized. In front of him, holding her hands on her hips, was a teenage girl with shaggy brown hair and flashing hazel eyes. She was frowning.

 _Why is she here?_

Raphael realized he was slouched across his couch, though he remembered being left on the floor. What had happened to him?

" _Why_ did you do that?" she yelled.

He raised his head to Josette, squinting at her.

"What are you talking about?" he cried in a hoarse voice.

She gave him another blow.

"Don't play games with me!"

He held back a groan. He wanted to get up, but his strength had evaporated.

"Josette – stop!" he said, restraining himself from spitting up blood. That really hurt.

"Do you know how _upset_ Marie was?!"

Oh. That's what this was about.

Met with Raphael's silence, she resumed her accusations. "She came in crying! She told me everything!"

"I can explain – "

"Don't bother," Josette snapped, glaring at him in disgust. "Marie told me more than enough – you pushed her too far!"

He lowered his head, and remained mute.

"I had to leave her alone to come and teach you a lesson! Just wait until her mother hears about this!"

"Let me deal with him."

Josette turned abruptly. She saw a girl come out of nowhere, and stare at her with contempt.

"There's only one person who can break his dirty mouth, and that's me," the girl announced before sending a flying blow into Raphael's stomach. He bit back a yelp of pain.

The newcomer turned to Josette, and glared at her. Josette gathered that it was better not to ask, and went away without another word. Nevertheless, she swore to Raphael she would be back before slamming the door behind her.

The stranger helped Raphael stand up, handed him his glasses, which he put on his nose, then she offered him a packet of ice. She lay down on the sofa with her face turned towards the ceiling.

"That girl has issues," she whispered.

 _"You're_ one to talk," snarled Raphael, who pressed the ice against his jaw.

"Don't worry. It'll heal by tomorrow."

He no longer had the strength to answer. Too many thoughts were jostling about in his head, and the pain kept him from concentrating.

He staggered out to the kitchen. He needed coffee.

"What did she want from you?"

He sighed. Why was this girl even here?

"Is she friends with that blonde girl you tried to hook up with?"

"Yeah," he snapped. "Josette's very protective of Marie." He swallowed a few sips of coffee. He felt a little better already.

"So she wanted to beat you up?" she asked, turning to the side, towards him.

He nodded. How was he going to get rid of her without taking more blows?

"Anyway, you must be confused."

He looked at her, saying nothing.

"You're probably wondering who I am, what I do, how I came in, and how I know all about you."

"I'm not sure if I _want_ to know," he replied wearily.

She gave him a disappointed pout. She joined him in the kitchen, sitting on the table in front of him.

"So, please get of my house," he continued. "I've a long day, and I'm exhausted."

"But you're drinking coffee, so you can't be going to sleep. You can talk to me!"

He sighed. "If I listen to your answers, will you leave me alone?"

"Nope. You'll have to do better than that. "

He raised an eyebrow. She stared at him, and smiled. A sneaky smile.

"Because I won't tell you anything!" She leapt down from the table and moved away. "Let me use your bathroom!"

He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

What was going on? This girl, a complete stranger, had barged into his house, knocked him out - She could have _killed_ him! - and was defending him against an enraged Josette trying to avenge Mary.

At the thought of Marie, Raphael remembered what had happened between them. He had to call her – to apologize. He grabbed his cell phone and called the manor. Alfred picked up the phone. The butler listened patiently, and listened to Raphael's pleas. He passed the phone over to someone. It wasn't Marie, but her mother.

"Good morning, Elizabeth," he began, trying to sound natural. "This is Raphael. Please can I talk to Marie if she's there?"

He heard a sigh on the other end of the line. "Listen, Raphael. Marie explained the situation to me, and due to her emotional state, I don't think it would be wise for her to speak to you at the moment. It's up to her how she proceeds, but I'm worried."

He nodded, before realizing she could not see him. He thanked her all the same, and hung up.

At the same moment the girl swept out of his bathroom.

"I borrowed some of your clothes!" she announced cheerfully.

He saw that she had taken a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, which fit her surprisingly well.

He sighed. "Why did you come to my house?" The better question was – _why couldn't she go bother somebody else?_

"Because you're the only person worth my time!"

He sighed loudly, hoping she would realize that he wasn't in the mood for houseguests (especially when said-houseguest had a couple of screws lose).

"Well, Raphie, you're going to have to listen to me for five minutes."

 _"Don't_ call me – "

The girl shoved him onto the couch, silencing him. Her expression suddenly changed. Her brows were furrowed, and his eyes burned with rage.

"I didn't come here to laugh," she said, leering over him.

He straightened up, and got back on his feet. She forced him to sit again, with a kick between the lungs.

"This isn't some fun little game."

She stopped at a short distance from him, and accentuated her remarks with a blow to Raphael's jaw.

"You got the messages, and saw the signs!" She hit him again. "Now you're going to pay for what you did!" "

She seized his collar, and kept throwing punches at him, all more painful than the others.

He no longer had the strength to defend himself. He was so tired.

"And you _will_ suffer!" she yelled, dropping him suddenly, letting him sink between two cushions like a puppet with its strings cut.

She stepped back. Her blue eyes were burning with malice. From the back pocket of her jeans, she drew a revolver.

And she fired.

It was like he was experiencing déjà vu. He saw the bullet flying towards him, without any way of avoiding it. He felt it lodge into his right shoulder.

He howled with pain.

"How does it feel?" the girl exclaimed.

He looked at his wounded shoulder. The simple movement made him groan. Bright red blood began to flow from the wound.

"Get down on your knees before me!" his assailant barked, before shooting a fresh bullet into his left thigh.

Raphael slipped and fell to the ground, writhing in agony. He could do nothing. Nobody could help him. No one seemed to hear them.

He heard a yelp, then a grunt. A shot, then a squeal.

"Fondue ...?" he called, tears in his eyes.

"He won't be able to answer," the girl declared, before bursting into laughter.

No. It was impossible.

Who was this girl? What did she want?

"You're still not finished?" she asked, kneeling at his height, the barrel of gun weapon glued to Raphael's waist.

She pressed the trigger again. A wave of blood escaped from Raphael's mouth. He could no longer bear the pain, nor the blood that escaped from his body.

"If you think I'm going to relieve you with a blow to the head," the girl began, rising, "you're dead wrong."

He was beginning to lose consciousness. She didn't seem to notice, and continued to talk and laugh. He couldn't understand a word. His head was heavy. He coughed again, and saw blood flood the floor, before he fell.

 _White._

Nothing but white.

He felt himself sinking with every step. Snow surrounded his feet.

He saw a familiar figure in front of him.

"Papa! Wait!" he heard himself shouting.

He stretched out his arm before him, hoping he could catch his father, and dashed after him. Despite his urgency, his father seemed even more out of reach.

He slipped and fell.

By the time he got back on his feet, his father had disappeared.

Turning, he saw Marie. Marie, with her golden hair floating in the wind. Marie, with tears flowing from her azure eyes.

"How could you...?" She let out a choked sob. "I loved you... "

He rushed to her. He wanted to embrace her, but his arms met only open air.

He sank to his knees. The snow was still falling. He caught flashes of snowflakes clinging to red hair. He struggled not to weep.

Two children passed by, running and laughing. They quickly faded into the white tundra around him.

"Did you understand all of that?"

He raised his head. There, a few meters from him, was the girl who had shot him to death.

Her face was grave; her gaze hard. But no shade of murderous hatred remained in her eyes. Somehow, she seemed older.

"All of those people made sacrifices… for your sake."

"But I haven't done anything to deserve this," he replied, wiping his eyes.

She nodded. She regarded at him with a gentle air, a benign smile on her lips.

"Then reach out to them. Tell them what they mean to you."

She turned and faded into the background.

And Raphael opened his eyes to his dismal grey ceiling. It took him a while to come back to himself. He rubbed his eyes with his left hand, and contemplated his surroundings.

It was dark in the room – evening. How long had he slept?

And more importantly, _how_ had he survived?

He got up, groping for a switch in the darkness. The light blinded him, but he became accustomed to it after a moment. He turned his gaze towards the wall clock that stood in his kitchen, and noticed with astonishment that it was five o'clock. Had he really been unconscious for that long?

He staggered into his bathroom to cool off for a bit. The cold water he splashed over his face did him a great deal of good, but there was no sign of the beating he had received. He should have had some bruising along his jaw, but he couldn't see anything. As if that wasn't strange enough, he wasn't hurting anymore. He examined his whole body – shoulder, waist, leg – but couldn't detect any wounds.

He searched his apartment for any evidence that the attack had been real, like traces of blood, or signs of a break-in from the strange girl who had… killed him. But there wasn't a hair out of place. No reminder of the events that had occurred in the space of a few hours.

He rubbed his eyes. He had to go back to bed, sleep it off, and forget all that had happened. It had been a bad dream, and nothing more.

Raphael entered his bedroom, and was relieved to see Fondue sprawled out across the bed. Raphael smiled, and went to join him, eager to get some sleep.

Hoping to drown out the silence of the apartment, he turned on the radio and programmed it to automatically turn off after an hour.

 _"... And without further delay, here is the news for Wednesday, tenth of July..."_

Raphael frowned. That wasn't right. _Yesterday_ was the tenth of July. Today was indeed that day when he had been attacked, if you could call it that, and killed. So how was it possible that it was so today?

Fondue raised his head, and looked at him, not comprehending the reason for Raphael's unease. But instead of offering an explanation, Raphael scratched the top of his head. Satisfied with the attention, Fondue rested his head between his fore-paws. He moved his ears when he heard Raphael sigh, stand up, sit down and stand again. The dog rolled to one side to see where his master was going. He watched as Raphael sat on the carpet, grabbing sheets of paper and pens. He listened as the radio described events he had witnessed the previous day and scribbled notes on the paper. He wrote up to ten, twenty or thirty pages, adding sketches here and there, drawn from memory.

Fondue yawned loudly. (No rest for the wicked then.)

He stood up, stretched, leapt down from the bed, and trotted to Raphael's side. He was careful to avoid walking on the sheets of paper. Fondue studied the sketches – he certainly couldn't read, but he could recognise the scenes from Raphael's drawings. Then he passed through Raphael's arms, settling into his lap.

Raphael smiled at him and stroked his head.

"Thanks, Fondue," he said, continuing to write what looked more and more like a logbook of the week.


	7. Chapter 7

\- Chapter VI -

While Inspector Vergier interviewed his informant, Duchess Elizabeth took a pleasurable stroll through a park. Marie had told her she had to go somewhere, specifying that she would prefer to be alone.

The day was just beginning, but Paris was already thriving with inhabitants, traders and visitors. While cars zoomed through boulevards, inhabitants gossiped on terraces, and tourists explored the city's monuments, there was one apartment, on the corner of a street, that remained silent.

Raphael had struggled with the logbook as best he could, but sleep finally overcame him. He drifted off while he was reading his notes, Fondue snuggled beside him. It was his faithful companion who woke him, washing his face with large licks.

Raphael glared at the dog, still too groggy to understand the situation. His first proper reaction, seeing that he was lying on the carpet, surrounded by sheets paper, was to pick them up and put them on his desk. He let out jaw-cracking yawn. How long had he slept?

He absently listened to the radio while he was in the shower. He struggled to remember the date, not comprehending how it was possible that he had memories of the day that hadn't happened yet.

Then a stroke of genius hit him.

What if he tried to see if he had lived that day?

He knew what was going to happen. It was enough for him to see if this day coincided with the preceding one. Starting with meeting Marie near the police station.

But his enthusiasm was short-lived.

Simply put, he didn't want to hurt Marie again – break her heart again. He loved her too much. And he would rather avoid another beating from Josette.

Thinking fast, he decided he would go out to town with Marie if she wished and they would spend the whole day together, without returning to his apartment. It was a good plan. In theory.

 _"As for the weather… The showers of the west coast, coming from Brittany and Pays de la Loire, will head towards the capital. Expect heavy rain for this afternoon. "_

He noticed this strange change of detail. He was sure he hadn't felt a single drop of rain. So it wasn't exactly the same day afterall.

He had to do something. He had to go out, and test the repetition of that day.

* * *

"I have an appointment with a colleague. Do not wait for me to have breakfast," Inspector Vergier told his daughter as he left his house. She had smiled back at him, and let him go without asking about his destination.

He had returned to his apartment at about eleven o'clock in order to retrieve some files concerning the Phantom R case, to which the Duchess Elizabeth's daughter had added her testimony.

Vergier found Loic, his subordinate, in his office. It was quite difficult for them to concentrate. They sat on either side of the desk, dissecting the facts relating to Phantom R. One focused on incidents of the previous year, and the other on the rest of the art thief's career.

As he was peeling through the police reports, page by page, everything clicked into place for Vergier.

He had already seen Phantom R when he wasn't thieving… in civilian clothes.

* * *

The smell of the dish she had ordered made Charlie's mouth water. Her father tutted and reproached her for having expensive tastes.

"If you go on like this, you'll ruin us, Charlotte," he repeated gently, but sternly.

Charlie huffed. Really, the post of inspector was not the best paid, but his wage was ridiculously low! Her father was working hard, working more hours than he could – He was even sleeping at the office! – but he still sometimes struggled to pay the bills at the end of month. It was as if a black hole swallowed all the money he was earning.

Charlie ran a hand through her dark blond hair. Her hair had grown a lot. Soon she would have to bring out her scissors.

Finally, she grabbed her cutlery and started eating.

The taste of the smoked salmon tickled her mouth, much to her delight. There wasn't a single crumb left on her plate. Soon the waitress arrived, took the dirty dishes, and offered them dessert, which Charlie accepted.

"Are you new here?" she asked when the waitress brought her order.

"Actually, I'm just a part-time employee."

Charlie noticed that the girl standing before her was relatively young – almost too young to work.

"I only help out when the restaurant is low on staff," the girl added, moving a red lock of hair behind her ear.

Charlie raised an eyebrow. She had been visiting this restaurant for a long time, so she knew the staff quite well. She was sure she had never seen this girl before. Yet, the temporary waitress seemed to know the restaurant perfectly. Clearly, it wasn't her first day here.

The girl turned on her heel and left Charlie to dig in to her slice of chocolate tart. Turning, the waitress regarded at Charlie from afar. Was she suspicious? She clenched her fist. She had to fall back – now wasn't the right moment.

She hurried to the kitchen, where work awaited her.

* * *

Charlie was sat at her favorite café, watching people parading past her on the sidewalk. It wasn't that crowded, thankfully, because it was a quiet day.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a touch of color stand out from the gray monotony of passers-by and tourists. She paid no attention to it until the person approached her and sat down opposite her.

"Hi, Charlotte."

She looked up and swallowed. Why him? Why _here?_

"What do you want?" she replied, frowning at the boy.

The last thing she needed right now was for him to be here.

"Look, I just need you to tell me something. Just one thing, and I'll leave you alone."

She folded her arms over her chest.

"I'm surprised you would dare to come back after everything you've done, Phantom R," she snarled without taking her eyes off him. "And you expect me to help you?"

He put his elbows on the table, and readjusted his dark blue hat. "You don't need to pretend to hate me just 'cause you're the inspector's daughter. You didn't have a problem helping me before – "

"Leave my father out of this!"

He sighed and rubbed his eyes. How could he reason with her?

"All I need is for you to answer a simple question. Nothing more. "

A waitress brought him a glass and a carafe of water. He didn't notice that he had been served without having placed an order.

Charlie massaged her temples. What did this idiot want? There hadn't been any sign of him for several months. Then, a few days ago, he'd randomly returned for a robbery that had turned the Paris constabulary upside down. But how could she help him?

"Go ahead. I'll see what I can tell you."

He smiled, but his smile disappeared as he edged towards her, leaning on the table.

"Have you been experiencing sensations of déjà vu lately?"

"Are you _joking?"_

With a disappointed sigh, he drew back into his seat.

"I wonder why I came to see you," he whispered.

He poured water from the carafe into the glass, and lifted it to his lips. Facing him, Charlie remained as still and cold as marble. She wasn't going to cooperate with him. She didn't even know what her answer could mean.

"I thought you could help me," he sighed.

"What do you mean by 'sensations of déjà vu'?" she asked, feeling that she was going to regret this.

He seemed surprised that she was so interested in the idea. Pleasantly surprised.

"It's just like… having the feeling that you've lived a whole day, before waking up and realizing that it wasn't true. "

She gave him a flat look.

He shrugged.

"So much for that idea," he murmured.

Charlie watched Phantom R get up, and go quietly, as if nothing had happened.

She shot to her feet and shouted for him to wait.

He turned to her, shocked.

 _What am I doing?_ grumbled a voice inside her head as she went to pay for her bill before returning to him.

He was waiting for her under the shelter of the terrace, just shy of the rain outside. She took an umbrella out of her bag and offered to walk a little. He nodded.

"Why did you come to see me?"

Her question seemed to grip the thief. He slipped his hands into his trouser pockets and answered in a grave voice, "You're the only one I can trust in the face of danger."

Somehow, she appreciated this unexpected sign of affection.

"I know that we're rivals," he went on, "but I feel that I can always come to you in an emergency."

"And how are you in danger?"

He kicked a small stone out of his path.

"It's like my past is catching up with me," he whispered.

Charlie frowned. It was like he was trying to give her a message.

"I don't think we're quite finished with Napoleon's plot," he confided, looking her in the eye.

She stared at him, trying to find a teasing glint in his gaze. Then she remembered. Shortly after the incident last year, she had continued her investigation. Her father refused to give her answers, while her thirst for knowledge grew more and more each passing day. Her search led her to the Chevaliers' base beneath Les Invalides. What she found there was...

"You don't remember, do you?" a mocking female voice muttered.

Charlotte turned round. She realised that no one was with her.

She released a nervous laugh.

"Stop messing about, Phantom," she said, trying to calm her frightened heart. "The case is closed, that's all. And that's not your little joke..." She stopped mid-sentence. She saw Phantom R running towards the restaurant as fast as possible. Without thinking, she pursued him.

Raphael was sure _she_ was there. He had seen her. It couldn't be a hallucination.

That waitress who had brought him the carafe of water. He had a doubt, but something had brought him closer.

"You have an employee – a waitress – a redhead who works here, right? "

The barman he was interrogating blinked at him. "Yes, but it's the end of her shift – she's gone..."

Raphael thanked him quickly and, without asking permission, rushed into the kitchens. He burst into the employees' locker rooms, hoping that she would still be there, questioning other staff members as to where she would be.

"Well, she just walked through that door..." a maintenance agent said, pointing to the exit door, which Raphael ran out of in the next moment.

He found himself in the middle of a lane, between two rubbish containers. He approached the main street.

It was empty.

Charlie appeared behind him, a few yards away, and he called her over. She was suddenly caught by a security guard, who immediately immobilized her.

Phantom R flashed her a smile before he fled. She shouted at the top of her lungs, but he didn't come back to help her. She was left with the security guard, who was going to take her to Constabulary HQ.

Her father was going to kill her when he heard about this.


	8. Chapter 8

\- Chapter VII -

Phantom R escaped into the maze of streets, breathless but invigorated by the adrenaline of the moment. It'd been so long since he'd felt such a rush!

He turned onto a rather busy street, blending into the crowd. The same crowd which split not long after, leaving him alone in the center, visible and within reach of all.

He froze when he saw some officers coming towards him.

He had to find a way out – and quick.

Instinctively, the thief turned around, hoping to escape by turning back. But he realized with dismay that the passersby had all scattered to make way for a human barrage of police officers.

He had to think quickly – had to get out of here. There was always _some_ way out.

But today was not his lucky day. He was caught, handcuffed and shoved into a police car. He recognized the man who had arrested him as Loic, an old friend and colleague of Inspector Vergier. Loic brought him in to a well-kept room, the only furniture of which was a table, two chairs, and a lamp.

He was forced to sit down with his his back to the door. His handcuffs were attached to his seat. They took his hat and placed it on the table beside him. He was told to wait in silence.

The hands on the wall clock were taunting him. It claimed he had only been sitting here for five minutes. Five minutes that felt like an eternity.

"So, you got yourself caught, did you?" sneered Vergier as he entered the interrogation room.

Raphael didn't reply as the inspector took a seat opposite him.

"Answer this at least: Why would you steal works of art, and make copies of them?"

"I steal the copies, and return the originals," said Raphael.

Vergier sighed. "Do you have any idea of the chaos you caused at Constabulary HQ when the tests came in?"

No response, no reaction.

"Do you know how long I've been trying to apprehend you?"

Vergier seemed to expect something from him, but Raphael didn't answer. The inspector sighed and searched his pockets for something. Whatever that something was, he couldn't seem to find it. He clenched his teeth and resumed his questioning session.

"We have a few matters to attend to. I ask for your cooperation in this."

Vergier put his left elbow on the table and leaned his head on his fist. He waited for a response from the teenager.

"Are you proud of yourself, _Raphael?"_

Hearing the three syllables of his name, Raphael surged to his feet, lifting the chair with him. He barely acknowledged the pain in his wrists from the handcuffs.

 _"How did find out?"_ His voice trembled, but he was boiling with rage. In three years, no officer had seen him, recognized him, or caught him. Why only now had he been discovered?

The inspector lifted his gaze, surprised by his heated response. He ordered him to sit down, but Raphael refused. Vergier let out a sigh and pulled out a few sheets of paper. He read the pages aloud.

"Report of the arrest. Age and family name: unknown. Same for the provisional detention sheet, plus your address. We need to know if you have a lawyer who can defend you. If you are a minor, your parents should also be informed."

He placed the sheets on the desk one by one, facing Raphael, and then picked up the last sheet.

"And we need a complete identity card from you as well as your signature at the bottom of this sheet. "

Vergier stared at the young delinquent, who was casting a scornful glance at the contents of the pages. He had no doubt Raphael would have torn the pages apart, had he not been restrained.

Raphael repeated his question. That was the only thing that concerned him. _How did the police find him?_

"Thanks to one of your companions," said the inspector matter-of-factly. "She gave us some information, which led me to you."

He slid a ballpoint pen between his fingers, wedging it between his forefinger and middle finger – the way one would hold a cigarette.

"Now will you cooperate?" he asked for the umpteenth time, resisting the urge to yell at the red-headed boy.

When Rapahel still refused to speak, Vergier rose and began to pace around the office and the detainee.

"I've been running after you for three years. You know what I've had to set aside to concentrate on your capture. All of the sacrifices my fury has brought me."

Raphael gazed at the ground, eyes blank.

"You know your crimes: Appropriation of cultural works, with break-ins, resistance of the authorities, and so on. You aren't helping yourself by refusing to cooperate."

He returned to his desk, and clasped his hands, elbows resting on the table.

"I will not repeat myself. Tell me why you stole the paintings, only to give back the originals. How did you acquire the originals in the first place?"

Since Raphael persisted in silence, Vergier ordered for the door behind Raphael to be opened. Sounds of footsteps rang out, but Raphael held Vergier's gaze. If he looked away **,** he feared he would never find freedom again. **  
**

"Here you are," said Vergier to the the newcomer, who until then had remained mute. "I told him how much you helped us, but he didn't feel obliged to speak. "

The teenager shot a quick glance in the direction of that person, before looking again at the inspector.

Then he froze.

He slowly turned his head to his left.

 _No, it was impossible..._

"I've only done what any honest citizen would have done, Monsieur Vergier." She smiled at the inspector, and put a hand through her golden hair. She stood, scarcely a meter between her and Raphael, and stared at him. Her azure eyes were fixed on him, unreadable.

"Please sit down, Marie," suggested Vergier.

"No, thank you. I would prefer to remain standing..."

He remained stunned. _She_ had turned him in?

What had she told the police about him?

"In case he tries to attack me," she added, much to Raphael's disbelief.

He watched Marie for a long time. She was wearing her sky blue tunic, her white waistcoat, and her dark blue jeans. He saw that she had left her hair down, without her clip, and she had removed the necklace he had given her.

"You can rest assured," Vergier said, "knowing this thief will soon be behind bars."

"Without a _trial?"_ she gasped. Her voice trembled. She seemed sincere. She must have still cared about him, or she wouldn't have sounded so alarmed.

She faced Raphael and leaned towards him, looking down on him. He glanced away from her in embarrassment.

"I hope you understand why I did this," she murmured. "I had to help Paris."

 _"Liar!"_

He shot to his feet jerkily. She drew back and stared at him, tears in her eyes. She looked wounded and sad. Didn't he believe her?

The inspector rose in turn, and forced the prisoner to calm down. But Raphael stood still.

"You're _not_ Marie! She would never have done that to me!" he yelled like a madman.

She wiped the tears from her eyes.

"I turned you in because I thought you were dangerous," she shouted back. "Now I have proof!"

Marie fled the room as fast as she could. Her sobs echoed through the corridor.

Raphael received a knock on the head from Vergier, even though he didn't need it.

He had been betrayed by the girl he loved, and he had hurt her in return.

Finally, the other version of the day was better, he thought as he was taken to a temporary cell to await his sentence.

* * *

From his seat, the teenager gazed at the faded ceiling – a gloomy shelter from the rain outside. After having repeatedly paced his cell, he had decided to lie down and think a little.

He ruminated over his future, wondering what would become of Fondue, who he had left alone at the apartment before he went to see Charlotte. Maybe Marie would realize he was alone and would take care of his canine companion. Maybe she would call the police, and ask about his sentence. But how could he be sure? The one thing he knew was that she had betrayed him.

He let out a sigh of disappointment. The four gray walls surrounding him disturbed him. Something was wrong. Maybe it was just him who had these weird fantasies. He wished something unprecedented would happen.

What was to become of him? He really was crazy. He imagined Napoleon– or rather, Leonard Bonar – coming back from beyond the grave to take revenge. Maybe that would explain why he felt like he was constantly being watched and that hallucination, or rather that dream, of the strange girl and his violent death.

"Come on. The inspector wants to talk to you."

The guard, a medium-sized middle-aged man, opened the door for him. He got up, and before going out, tightened his red tie somewhat around his shirt collar. He didn't looked back into the cell as he crossed the threshold.

* * *

"Chief! Chief! We have a big problem!"

Vergier took off his glasses, cleaned them, and raised an eyebrow.

"It's Phantom R! He vanished! Just like that, before my eyes!"

At these words, the inspector almost broke one of his glasses' lenses. He frowned.

"How did he manage that?" he asked, trying to remain rational in the face of such absurdity.

"Bah! I was bringing him to you as you asked. I went to see him, opened the cell door, and when he came out, just like that – _Poof!_ – he disappeared. He was nowhere to be seen!

Any person who was somewhat sane would have questioned the poor officer's statements. One might say he was overworked, and that fatigue had played an important part in Phantom R's flight. Phantom R could, for example, have taken advantage of the officer's weariness in order to sneak out of sight of the cameras. He could have bypassed the rest of the Constabulary and escaped from their HQ. It was an example among many that would explain the facts and give them a sufficiently realistic turn to be believed.

This was what someone who underestimated Phantom R's abilities would have believed.

Vergier had worked on his case for a long enough to understand he was no ordinary thief. His methods were peculiar, certainly, but after having somewhat rubbed shoulders with this prankster the previous year, he could affirm that there was no one else quite like him. This boy was unusual, and it was the mystery surrounding his identity that attracted people's admiration. But he had avoided Vergier's officers with his acrobatic feats. Few individuals were able to run over roofs with ease, let alone climb up buildings, and especially not to disappear by passing through cell doors.

The alarm was sounded throughout Constabulary HQ. They had to find him.

* * *

Something had seemed suspicious to him the second he stepped out of his cell.

First, he found himself in a place without any police officers, as if everything was back to normal.

Second, the door closed almost automatically behind him, preventing him from turning around.

Third, he found himself in the street.

He stood frozen before the closed door, fully alert. There wasn't much time. He had to find a place to hide away from the eyes of the Constabulary. Ironically, the first place he thought of was Duchess Elizabeth's home. It would have been stupid to go to his apartment: The agents surely had his name and address. It would have been suicide.

He examined the street he was standing in. Not a single police uniform in sight. Without wasting another moment, he rushed into the crowd, hat held firmly in his hand.

"Monsieur Raphael? What brings you here?"

"I have to see Elizabeth. Now."

The pressing tone he had used displeased him, but he had no choice. He had to hide.

Alfred the butler asked him to follow him, and took him to Elizabeth's office. He knocked on the door, and brought in Raphael, whose clenched fists were trembling.

The Duchess evidently noticed something was wrong and understood it was urgent. She invited him to sit down and explain the situation.

Raphael took the precaution of warning her that he didn't want to cause her any trouble, before telling her about his crazy day. His tremors increased when he started talking about Marie's betrayal, and he almost burst into tears as he explained she'd gotten him thrown the prison. He knew this was what he deserved for his many violations of the law, but this bad experience had been too much for one day.

All Elizabeth could do was listen to his story and to whisper a few words of encouragement.

"I don't know why Marie would do such a thing. She's very fond of you, you know..."

"And she promised to keep my identity a secret when we first met," he moaned, wiping a tear from the corner of his right eye.

She took his hands, and looked him straight in the eyes.

"Raphael, I'll help you. You can stay here for a few days. I'll send someone to look for Fondue, and sort out any other nasty business. But if the police ask me to cooperate, I will have no choice but to hand you over."

She appeared cold and stern. But her voice was not hard. On the contrary, he could see she was having a hard time believing all this.

She called a servant and asked them to prepare a room for Raphael. He recognized the corridor of his room – it was the same one where Marie slept. He was shocked to discover he had been placed about ten meters from her room, which made him even more uncomfortable.

By eight thirty, he was already asleep, spread out across the double bed. He had thrown his shoes at the feet of a chair on which he had placed his jacket, swung his hat across the room, and dropped his cravat somewhere. As his shirt prevented him from breathing, he unbuttoned it, at least halfway. Then he went to bed.

With his eyes closed, he dreamed of the moment when he would fall asleep, and of the moment when he would discover the whole day had been a nightmare. He was going to wake up at home, with Fondue, and everything would be fine. Perfectly fine.


End file.
